"Did it burn you?" he asked.
"I don’t need your help!" Alia snapped, elbowing him hard as he enveloped her from behind. "Back off!"
The man took the hit stoically without moving away; instead, he pressed even closer, hurriedly placing her hand under the faucet. "Quickly rinse it with cold water, don’t let it burn."
"I said I don’t need your help, can’t you understand!" She grew even angrier, her tone rising.
Luckily, the range hood was still on, and the kitchen door was closed, so the children in the living room couldn’t hear.
"Christopher Hart, aren’t you always high and mighty, too good for everyone? And now here you are, groveling to your ex-wife, don’t you feel ashad?" She turned around, her hair sowhat disheveled, glaring at him up close and choosing her words harshly.
Christopher didn’t look at her, his profile cold and indifferent, as his large hand continued to hold hers under the running water.
"A man pursuing the woman he likes, how is that disgraceful?"
"Likes? How genuine is your ’liking’?" she scoffed.
Only then did the man slightly turn his head to look at her, his gaze heavy, "A perfect score, is that enough?"
They were close, his arms wrapped around her from behind, their bodies intimately pressed together.
Originally, Christopher was much taller than her.
But because he was helping her rinse her hand, his tall and majestic figure bent down slightly.
So with a slight turn of her head, their faces aligned directly opposite each other.
Nose to nose, their lips almost touching.
Alia’s ears echoed with his words "A perfect score, is that enough?", and her mind suddenly blanked as if under a spell.
The kitchen lights cast down from above, slightly dimd by his body, made his features even more profound and charming.
The sound of water rushing and the range hood’s roar, her back pressed against his chest felt like it was on fire, instantly heating up and becoming numb.
Realizing the atmosphere between them was turning ambiguous, Alia bit her lip and swallowed, quickly turning her head.
But the man didn’t miss the opportunity—
His wet palm retracted and, taking advantage of the mont, he grasped her chin, turning her just-turned-away face back and leaned down to kiss her.
It all happened so fast; there was no ti for resistance.
"Mmm..." Alia’s breath was blocked, her brow furrowed, and her body instinctively struggled.
But the man trapped her between his body and the sink, the narrow space leaving no room to move.
Christopher kissed her deeply, having longed for this mont.
In his lifeti, besides his daughter, there would be no second woman who could stir his heart and haunt his dreams.
Over the past four or five years, he occasionally thought that if it wasn’t for the responsibility and morality demanding he marry Lily Garcia, he would never have another woman in his life.
Just a man with his daughter, leading a quiet and simple life.
He considered it a punishnt from God.
Now that he had her back, only to look at her from a distance, it was crueler than living a modest life.
He couldn’t accept it.
Even if it took everything, he would win her back.
For their children, and for himself.
The tender and earnest kiss left Alia defenseless; unable to push him away or resist, in her confusion, she could only reach for the spatula in the sink.
She raised it—
Christopher, hearing her take the spatula, snapped open his intoxicated eyes, the next second, terrified.
He grabbed her wrist in a flash.
"Are you really that heartless?"
The woman was panting, her cheeks flushed, even her earlobes seeming to drip blood.
"Try again and see if I dare!" she breathed heavily, trying to control the anger in her chest, fiercely issuing her threat.
His blood boiling, he wanted to recklessly take her to the bedroom and have his way.
But seeing her raised spatula and her defiant look, he ultimately lacked the guts.
"It’s just a kiss, it’s not like it costs you a piece of flesh..." he muttered lowly, snatching the spatula from her hand.
"..." Alia truly didn’t know what to say.
Too rascal!
"Are your hands okay? Let see..."
The woman was about to explode in anger, yet he acted as if nothing had happened, and when he couldn’t kiss her, he checked her hand.
"It’s red from the burn. Is it serious? Do you have any ointnt at ho?" he asked with concern, frowning.
"It’s fine." Alia Garcia quickly withdrew her hand and turned away coldly.
Dinner was ready; she turned off the range hood and started serving rice from the cooker.
Christopher Hart stood still, not turning around.
Alia Garcia finished serving the rice and, seeing him standing idly, said irritably, "What are you spacing out for? Go and tell the kids to wash their hands for dinner."
The man looked back at her, his handso face inexplicably flushed, his gaze flickering and elusive.
"Well... in a mont—" he said, then he turned on the faucet to wash his hands first.
Alia Garcia glanced at him and cursed under her breath.
As she turned back to continue serving rice, sothing suddenly dawned on her; she turned back abruptly to face him.
"Christopher Hart, you haven’t had a woman for the last four or five years, have you?"
Otherwise, how could he lose control so easily?
In broad daylight with the kids just outside, did he also have such thoughts?
This question infuriated the man, and he shook the water off his hands and stord out: "None of your business!"
Alia Garcia froze, staring at his retreating figure, and suddenly... she felt a chill.
To use the rogue’s own words, during their three years of marriage, except when he was on business trips and the few days each month when she was indisposed, every other night was business as usual.
She always considered Christopher Hart to be a person of strong desires.
Surely he couldn’t live without a woman.
That’s why he imdiately got involved with Lily Garcia right after they divorced.
She thought it was a seamless transition.
Could it be...
Had she been wrong?
But here he was, in the pri of his life, strong and vigorous. It was plausible not to have a woman for four or five days, but four or five years...
Wouldn’t he suffer from it?
With this realization, Alia Garcia suddenly felt uneasy.
Exactly why, she couldn’t pinpoint.
Outside, Christopher Hart had regained his composure and was telling the children to wash their hands and get ready for dinner.
Alia Garcia brought out the dishes and quickly set them up.
The children returned, each climbing onto a chair, anticipating eagerly.
Christopher Hart stood next to the woman, noticing only four chairs at the table, and asked instinctively, "Where do I sit?"
"There’s no place for you, eat wherever you want."
"..."
Mr. Hart, used to being thick-skinned, imdiately picked up his daughter and sat her on his lap, taking her place next to Alia Garcia.
Sitting down, he noticed the woman glaring at him angrily and he smiled innocently, "What can I do if your dining table is so small? There aren’t enough chairs."
"I didn’t invite you."
"Uh, I ca voluntarily. Since you refused to co to my place despite my repeated invitations, I had no choice but to bring my daughter here to scrounge a al."
He comfortably took the bowl and chopsticks in front of the woman, shalessly smiling at his stunned son across the table, "Let’s eat. It’s rare for our family to be together, so eat plenty."
Noah looked indifferent and complained to Alia Garcia, "Mom, how can soone be so shaless?"
Alia Garcia smiled sarcastically, "Whether he’s even human is questionable."
She thought the term ’beast’ was more fitting.
Mr. Hart, far from angry, laughed, "Talking about like this in front of the kids, is that really appropriate? If I’m not human, what does that make them—all little beasts?"
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